Oh My, Magic Tomatoes!
by AwkwardCloud
Summary: Due to England's greedy desire to bring back the "old days", Romano ends up the victim of a spell gone right! Yeah, one of his spells actually worked this time. Left in the body of his child self, but still retaining his adult mind, Romano works to reverse this spell (with the help of a special Spaniard) before pervert France or any other countries can take advantage of him.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note!

Hello, everyone! This will be my first story/fanfiction…ever. This will also be my first Hetalia fanfic….So I hope you guys will enjoy it. This won't be the perfect story, but I'll try my best!

*****Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Hetalia in any way. I wish I did, but I don't. All characters/countries used in this fanfic belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.  
**

**Credits to The Tomato Bomb for the idea of this fanfiction! If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be posting this fanfic, nor thought of something like this. Thank you! **:)

* * *

England devilishly smirked as he threw into a large, brass pot a variety of weird, strange ingredients- wait, is that thing moving!? He loomed over the pot being heated by the open fire. The Briton stirred the suspicious, disgusting liquid with a large wooden spoon whilst chanting words of a forgotten, ancient language. The viridian colored, lumpy substance began to boil, excreting a rancid odor and changing into a colorless, runny liquid.

Leaving the concoction to settle down, he walked over to a basket of assorted fruits and vegetables. Picking one up, he cleaned it with a nearby rag of cloth. "Yes, it's getting to be very nice…very nice indeed."

Why was he doing this? Well, to turn back the hands of time, using magic in the process, and turn America back into his younger, much smaller self. Oh how he yearned for the golden days, especially back when he still had his sweet, little colony beside him. England smiled, remembering the old days. It pained him to remember the war that had created a riff between him and America. Surely, it wouldn't hurt to just re-live those days, even if it was just for a week or two! Maybe even a month? The Briton grew even more excited.

He walked back to the concoction, scooped up a sample and used it to fill a food syringe. Now what was he supposed to do? England looked around the little "witchcraft room," as America had dubbed it, a round ball of red had catching his eye. "I should probably test it out first…see if anything goes wrong." He smirked and picked up the tomato, injecting it with the runny liquid.

.

"Spain," Romano hollered, "someone's at the door!" The obnoxious ringing of the door bell was _this _close to bringing Romano out of his comfy spot on the couch and over to whoever was there to go and kick their sorry ass. The feisty Italian was fed up with the annoying chime. He walked up the stairs, went over to the Spaniard's room, and kicked the door open. "Get up, you bastard!" Spain rubbed his eyes, blinking several times to adjust them to the blinding sunlight. "Lovi~" the Spaniard cooed, "come into bed with boss!" He held out his arms like the dumb, handsome fool he was. Romano blushed, stammering as his cheeks were slowly devoured of its fair color and replaced with a bright, burning red.

"Y-You- Bastard, you don't even know what you're fucking saying!"

"Lovi, you're as red a tomato! Ah, mi Lovinito is so cute~!" Spain cooed.

"Fuck it, I'll get it myself!" The feisty Italian stomped off, slightly swaying his hips as he exited the room.

.

"Lazy-ass bastard…" He muttered, kicking the door closed. Romano carried the box inside, into the kitchen, and ripped it open, literally, exposing a lovely, somehow unharmed, basket of tomatoes. "Who sends a basket of tomatoes in fucking a box? If anything, screw the box and just send the basket." He grumbled, carefully choosing a tomato. He examined its skin, eventually spotting a tiny puncture wound on the side. "_Merda!_ Poor _pomodoro_, punctured by the shitty-ass material this basket's made of." Romano bit into the juicy, crimson colored fruit, flavor exploding in his mouth. Jesus Christ, it was good! Not as good as Spain's, but you get what you get. He finished the tomato in a minute, gobbling it up as if he were the tomato equivalent of the Cookie Monster from that show America broadcasts.

"Lovi~" Spain called. He stepped into the kitchen, still yawning. "So who was at the-" Spain paused, ignoring the basket of tomatoes and the shredded up box; he couldn't believe what he was seeing with his own eyes. "L-lovino, uh…"

"What the fuck do you want, bastard?" Romano glared at him, picking up another tomato. His body glowed; it looked as if a blanket of white light had been wrapped around him. "Y-You're… uh-" Romano looked down at his shoes, staring at them; they were shinier than usual, his hands too…Shit! "W-What the fuck?!" A bright white light engulfed the room, blinding the Spaniard and the Italian. It flashed for a brief moment before being replaced by a cloud of smoke. Both he and Spain spent the next several minutes coughing and waving away the smoke.

Eventually, the smoke cleared. Romano rubbed his eyes and coughed one last time. He looked around, astonished by how tall everything else had gotten. "What the fuck? How did you get so tall Spa-" Mio dio, his voice. "My voice! " Romano squeaked, "Why the fucking hell is it so high?! What the fuck is going on?!" He looked down at his shoes; they hardly fit anymore. He clutched the t-shirt he was wearing, now a baggy, make-shift dress of sorts on his tiny body. "L-Lovino…" Spain managed to utter out, paralyzed and shocked at what was standing before him. "Mi little tomate has turned into a child!"

* * *

**Note***

**Italian = English**

**Pomodoro = tomato**

**Merda = Shit**

This chapter is short, I know. Sorry, sorry! Please do review, because it helps both me and the story! I know it sounded a bit stupid, cheesy, corny, etc. in this chapter. Sorry, sorry!  
If there are any errors, especially grammatical or spelling errors, please do mention them to me! It helps a lot. Erm, there's not much else to say…I hope you enjoyed this story. You can expect the next chapter to appear soon, maybe?

There's nothing really T rated about this fanfic except for (Romano's) language and some kissing…somewhere in the future.

Thank you so much!


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note

Sorry, sorry! This chapter took much longer to write than what I had expected. Well, they say to expect the unexpected so…yeah. I hope this chapter will make up for time I lost. Anyways, school has (unfortunately) begun so don't expect an update until maybe 3 weeks later to a month max.

I think everyone understands that I don't, nor will I ever own Hetalia.  
Enjoy~

* * *

"Fucking hell!" Romano thundered, "I don't care if it's already fucking sunset or some shit, we're not sleeping until we figure out shit!" He paced back and forth beneath the counter top, the long sleeves of his now over-sized shirt being dragged behind him. It unintentionally increased his cuteness by 200%. "Pfff-" Spain clamped his hand over his mouth. The sight of his younger, shorter little tomate angrily pacing beneath the not-so-tall counter top was just too adorable! "L-lovino…pfff-" He tried his best to resist the temptation to chuckle or coo, "I'm sure you'll figure something out! You're really smart, even smarter than boss might I add!" Romano paused and looked up, glaring murderously at the Spaniard, tears welling up in his eyes. "Well I don't fucking know how to fix this! I'm a child. A fucking CHILD, for Christ's sake! You might as well fucking scourge and crucify me because-" "Romano, calm down!" Spain valiantly interrupted Romano's rant, walked over to the young Italian and knelt down, caressing his cheek. "Stay calm, mi tomate. We'll figure something out, I promise." He smiled his dumb, carefree smile, patting his little tomate. "Heh, doesn't this bring back old memories? Back when you were my cute, little colony~?" Spain cooed, reminiscing the old times, "Like when you'd run into my arms, or when you'd take care of me when I came back from the New World, or when you'd head butt me on the stomach to wake me up, or-" "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it." Romano sniffled, rubbing his eyes to rid them of tears.

Spain sighed, relieved that he could at least somewhat calm down his agitated "tomate." He embraced the spirited, young Italian, cooing at how "cute" he was and how "his little 'tomate' was just too adorable not to hug!" "Ah, mi Lovinito is just so cute! How can I resist hugging you when you are so small? ~" Romano writhed in Spain's arms, trying to break out of his death hug; it was inevitable, a waste of energy really. He always hated those; nothing but trouble they were. "Ack! I can't breathe!" he whined, beating on Spain's back, "let go of me, damn it!"

Spain chortled, squeezing the living day light out of the him. "No way, Lovi!" He leaned closer to the side of his tomate's head, his lips gently brushing against Romano's ear. "Besides, you're not strong enough to resist me~" he whispered, smirking. Mio Dio! For a split second, Spain sounded almost flirty, devious, or just plain perverted like France! Romano blushed, stuttering and slightly trembling. "Y-y-you-…T-that's- you bastard! CHI-GIII!" He charged upward, aiming the crown of his head towards Spain's jaw. "D-don't say things like that! God damn it!" Spain grunted, recoiling and stumbling back, landing on his hind.

"Ow, Lovi! You hurt boss!"

"That's the point, dumb-ass! Now shut it!"

"Ah, mi Lovinito is so cute~ Even when he's trying to murder boss!"

He retreated to the walls of the kitchen, backing away from the Spaniard. "Just because I have the body of a fucking child doesn't mean I am one. I'm still an adult, idiota! Well, my mind's still an adult…I think." Romano panted, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. "Now help me up, bastard. I wanna check the tomatoes." He held his arms out, waiting for the Spaniard to lift him up. Heh, kinda like the old days. "That reminds me…Lovi, do you remember this?" Spain knelt in front of him; his arms welcoming and wide open. "_Bésame_~ _Bésame_~" He cooed, snickering.

"Why you- _Affanculo_!" Romano charged forward, like those angry bulls Spain fought. It was a foolish and ridiculous sport, really. If he wanted to commit immediate suicide, he'd have signed up as a matador. Nevertheless, of course, he had no death wishes. Head butting the Spaniard right on the stomach, Romano cackled in delight at the sight of his pained, self-proclaimed "boss" sprawled on the floor, grimacing. "Ack! Ack! Lovi, stop that!" Spain clutched his stomach, groaning in pain. "Well that's what you get, An-to-ni-o!" he replied, kicking Spain with his heel. It didn't really do much damage, but he felt dominant when Spain was on the ground, whimpering. "Don't you dare go fucking me up the ass with sweet nothings!_Nessuno me lo ficca in culo!_ Now lift me up, damn it!"

Spain groaned in over exaggerated agony as he hoisted the young Italian onto the counter top with effortlessly. Romano grunted, shooing away the Spaniard to the side before he could coo about how "his little tomate just called him by his name" or how "cute" his "precioso tomate" was. That bastard.

He picked up a tomato, and examined its red exterior, drooling as he did so. Damn, he really wanted to eat it, it looked so good; so tantalizingly tasty. "Hnng, _mi pomodoro,_ why can't you be mine?" "Don't fret, Lovi, there are plenty of fresh, mouth-wateringly scrumptious tomatoes out in the garden!" Spain chimed in. Romano poked the incision, curious as to why it was small. It was as if it had been purposely injected with something; a diabolical plan of some sort. Nah, probably not. He shrugged and picked up another tomato; funny, its puncture wound was in almost, if not the exact same spot! "Antonio…" The Spaniard sauntered over to Romano, staring at the basket of tomatoes. "Wow, tomatoes! They look delicious, Lovi! Not as much as my tomatoes, but they're decent looking. Who sent them?"

"I don't fucking know! Thing is, they've all got a tiny puncture around this particular area." he replied, pointing at the tiny, almost cleverly hidden wound. "If this basket were really made of some shitty-ass material, then these tomatoes would be riddled with holes and scratches…but they aren't. Judging from the shit that just happened, I'd say that this was on purpose."

"You figured out all of that on your own? No wonder why mi Lovinito is so smart!"

Disregarding that comment, Romano sighed and put the tomato back in the basket. "Fuck, now what? We don't know shit about who sent this or what the fuck they did to these tomatoes." Spain remained beside him, examining the tomatoes himself. "Should we ask for help? I'm sure Francis and Gil wouldn't-"

"Oh fuck no! We are NOT calling those idiots over here! That albino potato's gonna break shit and that perverted French shit-baguette might (will) take advantage of me the second you turn your back!"

"B-But Lovi, what about-"

"NO! Absolutely NO ONE can find me in a state like this! Even if you ARE there, there's no fucking limit to what lengths they'll go! Hell, they might even-"

"I get it, Lovi, no else can know about this. However, what about Feli? He'll get really worried and might panic."

"…For now, this will be our secret. Now help me down; I gotta go to the bathroom, damn it!"

Spain nodded in reply, helping him down. "I think we should go to bed soon, Lovi. We've been up all day trying to figure out what exactly happened to you, missed our siesta, and the sun's already down. I'm tired so can we go to sleep now? Please, mi precioso tomate?" Romano sighed, rubbing his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, whatever." "Really? This means I get to sleep next to me little tomate like old times!" The scatterbrained Spaniard happily celebrated in glee, Romano on the other hand, not so thrilled by the said action.

"Oh fucking hell no. There is no way in fucking hell am I going to sleep next to you, especially in this body."

"Oh, but please, Lovi~? We always sleep together, even when taking siestas! We missed our siesta today because you were trying to figure out what happened so you have to pay me back!"

"Pay you back? You could have taken the siesta without me, bastard!"

"Yeah, but it wouldn't be as fun or warm without my Lovi~"

"Damn it…Fine." Romano reluctantly agreed, watching in displeasure as Spain danced in glee. "I'll go make the bed, Lovi!" He watched as the Spaniard sprinted up the staircase of the big-ass mansion that was his house. "Oh shit, wait a minute…Antonio, wait for me!" Romano called out, racing to catch up with him. Maybe he'll get lost like he did back in the old days. No way in hell was he going to take a risk like that; the mansion was enormous as hell! "Damn it, wait for me!"

* * *

**Note***

**Bésame = Kiss me**

**Affanculo = Fuck it all**

**Nessuno me lo ficca in culo = Nobody fucks me up the ass**

Got these lovely phrases from an online website.

Please correct me if I'm wrong in spelling or usage or anything!


End file.
